


Castaway

by pyrchance



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Descendants Inspired, Homelessness, M/M, everyone is complicated—not sympathetic or unsymathetic, tags will be updated as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance
Summary: One generation ago, a kingdom split in two. The Light won the battle and the mainland, and the Dark was banished to rot on an island.Anxiety has lived on the Island since he was born. Gifted with shadows, he has made his meager living delivering information to those more powerful than him. He wants nothing more than to carve out a slice of safety in a place that would rather see him dead.But when Deceit offers him a new job—to pose as the long lost prince and infiltrate the Light to bring down the barrier—Anxiety has little choice but to obey.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 104





	1. Friends on the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @pyrchance.

Anxiety squatted beneath the docks, watching the shadows of passing feet through cracks in the wood. It was a miserable, dribbling morning. Daybreak had brought scarcely a lighter shade of wet gray to the Island and after a week of subsiding on catnaps in alleys and on stoops, Anxiety felt the cold down into his bones.

A sharp tap sounded on the dock above, breaking the monotony of dull footsteps. Anxiety let out of a huff of relief. Finally. He stood, just as a lithe figure slipped under the wood to join him, cane in hand.

“My, my, don’t you look like a wet dream.”

“Deceit,” grunted Anxiety. “I wouldn’t be so wet if you’d been on time.”

Deceit laughed like he’d said something clever - doubtful - or make a funny joke - not likely. He was alone today, which was unusual. For all his lofty talk, Deceit rarely did business without the Duke hovering wild-eyed over his shoulder. Then again, Anxiety was hardly what anyone would consider a threat.

“I’m sure the Sandman would give you a sweet dream if you paid him, darling,” said Deceit with a smile that disappeared into the scales on his face. “Now, gimme, gimme. This weather is disgusting today.”

Anxiety agreed. The sooner this was over the better.

He reached for the shadows, feeling his magic spread into the darkness under the dock until the very air seemed heavy with it. It was this ability to twist and bend shadows that allowed him to be such a useful source of information for people like Deceit, hidden against walls like an innocuous spider. He tugged on the shadows under the dock, darkening them until it seem as though a second night had gathered around them.

Only when the footsteps above became muffled did he reach into his cloak for the letter and hold it out for Deceit to see. The other’s yellow eye gleamed as it took in the crisp white paper and golden lettering, things far too fine and delicate to exist on the Island.

That could only mean it came from beyond the barrier—from the Light side. Anxiety had never stepped foot off of the Island. As far as he knew, no one had for nearly two decades. The barrier was the final result of the civil war that broke the mainland kingdom in two and banished the so called Dark—magic wielders with more destructive, malicious tendencies—to a slow death of rot on the Island.

Anxiety didn’t know how Deceit had come to know about this letter from the main land or why he had hired Anxiety to steal it, but he wanted nothing to do with Light side business.

Deceit reached out a gloved hand. Anxiety pulled the letter back.

“I want to be paid first.”

“What?” Deceit’s outstretched hand curled. “Is there so little trust between old friends?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“Well, _that’s_ certainly true” Deceit laughed.

“My payment,” Anxiety repeated, hoping his voice came out firm despite the pounding in his chest. He needed the money. And he didn’t trust Deceit any more than he would an actual snake in the sand. The Duke wasn’t here. Anxiety could probably run, if he had to. Deceit’s best weapons were his words, not his feet.

“Alright, alright.” Deceit’s hands came up obligingly. Anxiety did not let himself wince as Deceit counted out a half handful of coins with a carefully careless air and poured them into Anxiety’s hands. Mostly copper, barely any silver, not a gold coin in sight. It wasn’t hardly enough.

“This isn’t what we agree on.”

“Well, you did take quite a bit longer than anticipated, didn’t you? And just to pick up one letter. I’m honestly disappointed, Anxiety. I truly am. Here I thought you were the best. You’re lucky this sad performance affords even _some_ payment.”

 _Fuck_.

A whirlwind of calculations began inside of Anxiety’s skull. Shelter or food? A spot by the fire to dry his clothes or a warm meal to fill his bones? It had been so long since he’d been able to start and end the day with a full stomach. Even longer since he’d slept inside four solid walls. His bones ached. And he still had debts he had to pay. His creditors would be calling around to collect soon. He couldn’t afford a week of hiding in the shadows. He couldn’t afford not to work. Not to eat.

He clenched his fist around the coins, looking up into Deceit’s gently smirk.

“Now, Anxiety, why the sour face? You’re as depressing as the weather. Speaking of which, I’ll take that letter now, if you please? No need to stand around here any longer than necessary.”

Anxiety had almost forgotten. For half a moment, he was almost tempted to hold it back and demand more payment, but the light in Deceit’s eyes had grown fiendish and Anxiety was nothing if not a coward. He passed over the pretty piece of parchment and watched as Deceit tore into it.

A smile spread across Deceit’s face. Triumphant.

Anxiety took several little steps back, unnerved when Deceit did not so much as glance at him.

“I want another job,” said Anxiety.

“Hm?”

“I said, I want another job. What do you want?”

Deceit did not look up from the letter. “Later, perhaps. I’m busy right now.”

Anxiety thought about the half handful of coins in his pocket. Deceit was a slimy bastard, but he’d never outright denied Anxiety an opportunity to be useful.

“No.” He clenched his hand around the coins. “This isn’t enough. I need another job.”

He took a half step forward and that was his mistake. Deceit’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him off of his feet. For a small man, he was nonetheless powerful, and Anxiety was too startled to do much else but jerk uselessly in his grip.

“You’re much too noisy for what you are,” said Deceit, a sneer twisting his lips. Anxiety’s eyes darted down, waiting for the sharp reveal of Deceit’s fangs. They never came. When he looked up again, Deceit was studying his face with an almost calculating gleam. The hand that was not holding him came up and swiped at Anxiety’s eyes.

Anxiety lost his breath as panic set in. _Not his eyes_! _He wouldn’t survive blinded!_

He felt a hand on his face and trembled, but the fingers didn’t dig into his socket. Instead, he felt them run under his eyes and then disappear.

“Interesting.”

When nothing else happened and no other contact was made, Anxiety peeled open his eyes. Deceit was looking down at his gloved hands with a thoughtful expression. It was as if Deceit was checking to see whether the dark under Anxiety’s eyes was real, but that didn’t make any sense. Most of the Island exhibited their magic in some form or another on their skin. Anxiety’s dark circles was as mild a condition as it came.

“W-What do you want?”

“Oh, do calm down,” Deceit tutted. The grip on his collar abruptly ended, and Anxiety barely caught himself on his feet as he was let go. He scurried backwards several feet. Deceit waved him away.

“I might have something for you in a few days. You’ll be hearing from me. Or perhaps you won’t. Either way.”

With that, he turned back to his letter, effectively dismissing Anxiety.

Anxiety watched him with his heart in his throat, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but whatever was in that letter had enthralled Deceit again. And whatever managed to do _that_ Anxiety wanted no part in.

His small collection of coins burned in his pocket and his stomach growled, pulling his thoughts towards more practical matters. Pulling the darker shadows over his head, Anxiety slipped out quickly from under the dock, threading himself into the traffic above.

* * *

“You little insect!”

A mistake.

Anxiety moaned, pressing his face into the dirty floor, hands over his head.

He had made a mistake.

“You think we don’t know what you get up to? Who you were with? Where’s the rest of the money?”

A kick connected with his back. Pain spiked up his spine like fire. He cried out, but the men beating him weren’t actually here to listen. They were here to hurt.

It had taken his creditors just three days to find him once he’d stepped out of the shadows. With Deceit’s erratic behavior lingering in his ears, he’d gotten off of the streets as soon as possible. He’d chosen to buy a bed in an inn, unable to stand another night sleeping in the rain. It had only taken one sighting of him sitting and eating in the inn’s lodge for word to get back that Anxiety was in the vicinity with money—money that was not nearly enough to cover what he owed.

Anxiety wasn’t even sure _which_ of his creditors was currently beating him. Wrath for the knife he had bought on credit months ago and only half repaid. Greed for the time she’d given him a bed during winter, only to learn later it was a favor that was expected to be returned. One of the numerous shops or inns Anxiety had been forced to run out on, when his need for food had outweighed his empty pockets.

Possibly, it didn’t matter. Anxiety did not have the money to pay off any of them. And he didn’t have the money to do anything about the men currently cracking his skull against the pavement.

Eventually the men grew tired or bored or sick of the rain.

They left him only after one spat on him, smearing his face into a puddle with a boot and causing him to choke on the mud.

Anxiety could not believe it was still raining.

It was better, somehow, to focus on that one miserable fact than acknowledge the pain in his body or the way his arms trembled as he pushed his face away from the ground and heavier muddy water onto the pavement.

There was a hot iron piercing his ribs, making his breath come shallow and sharp. It pinned him like a butterfly, not letting him sit up properly, much less get to his feet. His head hung heavily and he saw his own face in the puddle below, blood smeared from his nose across his mouth.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Anxiety froze, unable to get up, unable to run. He reached for the shadows and felt them quiver weakly in his grip.

A man’s laughter crackled. A hand found Anxiety’s cloak and pulled, dragging him to his feet and keeping him there when his knees buckled.

Anxiety’s breath stopped as he stared into a pair of wild, green eyes. It was the Duke. And that could only mean—

“Three days.” A pair of shiny black shoes stepped into Anxiety’s vision, and then his chin was being grabbed and lifted. Deceit peered into his face with a pinched expression. “I leave you alone for three days and this is what you get up to. I thought I could rely on you to at least have a measure of self-preservation, Anxiety.”

The Duke jostled him. His breath caught as the pain in his ribs spiked. At well over six-feet and with arms to spare, the Duke dangled Anxiety with ease until his toes barely skimmed the ground. “Are you _sure_ this is the one you want? He’s all starving and skinny and pathetic. Barely even anything to eat.”

Anxiety flinched as the Duke’s teeth bit the air near his ear. He couldn’t even move his head with the grip Deceit had on his face.

Deceit turned Anxiety’s head back and forth, leaning in close enough Anxiety could count the individual scales. Anxiety didn’t want to know what he looked like, that made Deceit stare at him like so much prey. Was there some other debt Anxiety didn’t know of? Some failing that Deceit was here to collect on?

“No,” said Deceit, speaking to the Duke. “It’s like I thought. Bring him along. I want to get that blood off to be sure.”

Anxiety had scarcely time to process that before he was tossed over the Duke’s shoulder and his ribs exploded into agony.

He must have a passed out, because the next thing he knew the rain was gone and he was opening his eyes in a room that was brightly lit and warm. He was reclining on a couch and his cloak was missing, along with his shoes. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbow and this was such an unprecedented thing his hands came up automatically to smooth them down.

Heart pounding, he sat up. The movement hurt, but the mere fact that he was able to had him searching down his ribs to find bandages across his chest. His breath stopped. Someone had _undressed_ him while he was out. What had they done? What else had they done? And what did they _want_?

His eyes darted around the room. It was a common area, small but not cheap. The table next to Anxiety was carved with fine details that spoke of money and influence. A fire blazed in the hearth. Anxiety saw that his cloak and shoes had been laid nearby to dry.

He sat up to get to them and that was the moment he saw the Duke lounging in a chair near the window, scribbling on the wall with a knife. His head whipped around, spotting Anxiety at the exact same moment.

“Oh ho! The little beast awakens! You’re even less fun when you’re asleep, did you know that? I’ve seen corpses more lively than your skinny hide.”

“Where am I?” Anxiety was surprised to find his voice came out as strong as it did. The Duke was a wild animal that Anxiety had spent years trying to avoid, but Anxiety was already in the worst case scenario. The Duke was not only _looking_ at him, but _speaking_ too. The rumor of what horrors squirmed around in that unhinged head were enough to keep even the old generation unnerved.

“Boring!” shouted the Duke. “I’m so _bored_ now!” He stabbed his knife into the wall and pouted. “I bet we could play a game and that’d be fun. How do you feel about darts, spider boy?”

“What have I told you about writing on the wall?”

Anxiety was never more grateful to see Deceit that in that moment that he walked in, hands full of cloth and a frown on his lips.

The Duke grinned, flopped in his chair and sprouted an extra pair of arms to throw up in the air. “Not to. But Deceit, he’s just so boring! Look at him? He’s barely even moved.”

“If you’re bored, go somewhere else then. I’m afraid we’re only going to talk about business in here.”

“Boring!” The Duke’s chair slammed into the floor as he pushed off of it. “I’d rather eat my own entire asshole. Or his maybe. Is that on the menu?”

“Business only.”

“Ugh. Whatever.”

As the Duke flounced away, Deceit turned his gaze to Anxiety. He pulled up the chair the Duke had been using beside Anxiety’s couch and sat down. Anxiety drew back, waiting, frozen.

“Oh, don’t,” said Deceit. “You’re fine, aren’t you? You could even stand to say thank you for us dragging you out of that mess, couldn’t you? Now, sit up. I don’t have all day.”

Anxiety reluctantly followed the order. His ribs felt awfully bendy and ached, but no sharp pain accompanied them. That wasn’t just a bandage. That was magic. Expensive magic.

Anxiety felt the weight of another debt crushing down on his shoulders and was suddenly furious. He hadn’t asked for this. He was doing _fine_.

“What do you want, Deceit?”

He was getting tired of asking the question. If Deceit’s eye roll was any indication, he was getting tired of hearing it.

“Read this.”

A very familiar letter was shoved at Anxiety’s chest. He took it, then almost immediately tried to give it back. “No.”

Deceit looked mockingly disappointed. “I thought you wanted work? You were just begging me for it a few days ago.”

“I don’t want anything to do with whatever this—this _Light_ stuff. I’m not interested.”

“I’m sorry. Was I not clear in my instructions?” Deceit’s hand curled around Anxiety’s wrist and squeeze. “Read the letter.”

“No. I’m not going to read it. You can’t—I’m not going to get mixed up in _whatever_ all this is. I refuse.”

For a moment, it seemed like Deceit was going to hit him. The grip on his wrist grew strong enough Anxiety could feel his bones grinding together. Then, abruptly, the anger on Deceit’s face clear and the grip released.

“Fine. This isn’t how I wanted to do this anyway.” Deceit snatched the letter and gestured to the door. “You may leave. Just know you won’t find any more work from me if you do.”

“Fine,” spat Anxiety. He got to his feet, ignoring how his head swam, and made for his clothing.

“In fact,” continued Deceit as he got up to follow him. “I wouldn’t expect any more work to be coming your way. And those hiding spots you so love—that balcony on the west side, oh and that closet in Shame’s store—well, they might not be as safe as you remember them. You do have quite a crowd looking for you, did you know?”

Anxiety’s hands stilled where they were pulling at his cloak. Dread settled as a stone in his stomach. Those places were secret. Safe houses he used only as a last resort to lick his wounds. How had Deceit known? What else did he know?

“You’re a cunning little spider, though. I’m sure you’ll be able to _talk_ your way out of a few measly disagreements, won’t you?”

Anxiety turned around. Deceit stood, smirking and smug with the letter in his hand.

Anxiety was fucked.

“What do you want, Deceit?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple really,” smiled Deceit, stepping forward and tapping the letter on Anxiety’s chest. “The Light Side is looking for their long lost prince. They know I know where he is. Trouble is, the prince isn’t exactly the creature they’ll be expecting. I need to deliver something a bit more…pitiable. And that’s where you come in.”

Anxiety tried to take a step back, but found himself hedged between the fire and Deceit’s growing smile.

“No,” he said.

“Oh yes,” said Deceit. “You see, I’ve got a plan to free every, single one of us from this disgusting Island. We are going to bring down the barrier once and for all. And you, my friend, are going to make it happen.”


	2. A Whole New World

In the mirror, Anxiety watched the purple in his eyes and hair slowly faded into green. His skin darkened slightly, loosing the sickly pale he’d earned from a life spent in the shadows. His jaw line thickened, his mouth grew wider, and his limbs stretched, until he was left with a dizzying picture of his own features twisted out of proportion. Only the rings of black under his eyes remained, a byproduct of his innate magic that was unable to be wiped aside.

Over his shoulder Deceit tutted, studying his work with a critical eye while adjusting the amulet that hung around Anxiety’s neck. It was one of the Duke’s, a gaudy golden chain that felt big and ridiculous on Anxiety.

“You’ll pass,” Deceit sniffed, releasing him.

“I don’t look anything like the Duke,” muttered Anxiety, still peering at himself in the mirror. He had been able to keep his own clothes, at least. His black cloak was warm and familiar on his shoulders, unlike the frilly green monstrosity Deceit and tried to pass onto him earlier.

“Like Remus,” Deceit corrected, turning aside.

Anxiety grimaced. He pulled back from the mirror to shoot a glance at the Duke. The man had been far too quiet. The Duke was ignoring the both of them, singing a bawdy song to himself as he slung chunks of god-knows-what into the fireplace. Whatever it was hissed and sputtered as it met the flames, filling the room with a noxious odor.

Anxiety still could barely believe that the long lost prince of the Light was none other than the ghoulish thug that followed Deceit around. Remus Sanders. The Duke. Lost heir to the Light throne. Anxiety had heard the legend of the little prince who was caught on the wrong side when the barrier went up, but he’d never believed it. If the Duke hadn’t cackled and confirmed it all—looking absolutely tickled by Anxiety’s discomfort—he might have chalked it all up to another one of Deceit’s tricks. Looking at the Duke now, giggling as something wet popped in the fireplace, Anxiety couldn’t see anything possibly _Light_ about the man.

“Right,” said Anxiety slowly.

Deceit came back again, this time holding a small bag he shoved at Anxiety. “It doesn’t really matter what you look like,” he said. “The Light hasn’t seen their precious prince for seventeen years. So long as you remember to act the part and bat those pretty green eyes, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Then why make me go at all,” muttered Anxiety, pawing through the bag and discovered not much more than some disastrously ugly clothing and more of the Duke’s gaudy jewelry.

Deceit sniffed. “Well, for one thing because I told you so and because you’re going to be paid very well for doing what you’re told. And for the second, I can’t exactly cover up those, now can I?”

He nodded his head as the Duke’s back sprouted more limbs. Anxiety couldn’t help but gag as three more arms peeled out of the Duke’s back to tear— _Was it a cat? Skunk?_ — whatever he was holding into tiny pieces and dance gleefully as the pieces hissed in the fire. Anxiety didn’t want to know what the Duke’s magic was to result in _that_ as its manifestation.

“Comparatively, I think even the Light can handle a few dark circles,” finished Deceit. He thrust a new more items into the bag he’d given Anxiety then stepped back, giving him a shrewd once over.

Anxiety hunched under the attention.“What?”

“Just marveling at my own handiwork.” Deceit smiled, clapping his hands together. “Now, listen carefully. There are a few things you need to know before we go. A bit of…insurance on my end, if you will.”

* * *

Anxiety felt beneath his cloak for the Duke’s amulet, trying to ignore the warning drums clanging in his head. Beside him, Deceit looked out across the dark waters of the ocean with scarcely concealed greed.

“Oh, do stand up, _”_ he hissed, when he caught Anxiety’s gaze. “Are you a prince or not, _Remus?_ ”

Anxiety swallowed the little sarcastic _not_ on the tip of his tongue and dutifully straightened. They stood together on the edge of one of the eastern docks with absolutely nothing to cover them from prying eyes. Deceit had pinched him when he’d started to pull on the shadows, glaring at him like he was an idiot.

Apparently, twisting shadows was not what princes were meant to do.

Which didn’t really make sense to Anxiety, what with the fact that the _real_ prince was no doubt at this moment terrorizing small children, parading through the red light district, or screaming obscenities at people in the streets, if not all three. He’d pouted when Deceit had sent him on his way, baring his smile like a snarl at Anxiety on his way out the door.

“Do try not to loose my little trinket,” he’d sung, yanking on the amulet hard enough there was already a bruise. “It would be just _terrible_ if your insides became your outsides and everyone was there is see. You’re not even ripe yet.”

He was referring, of course, to the first of Deceit’s revelations. That not only was Anxiety’s illusionary appearance dependent on him wearing the amulet, but that the spell was only primed to last until the next full moon. This gave Anxiety a little under a month to not only discover the source of the barrier, but bring it down from the inside.

The way the Duke had cackled at Anxiety’s terror was almost enough to make Anxiety happy he was leaving. At least he was guaranteed a month without _that_.

Almost.

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Anxiety asked, when the itch of being so exposed finally drove him to speaking. “What if it was a trick? How do you _know_ it was really the crown prince you’ve been talking to? It could have been anyone? We could be just standing here, out in the open, waiting for someone to—”

“There.” Deceit cut him off with a raised finger. “Do shut up and watch.”

Anxiety’s teeth bit together. Of in the distance a golden light was shining. At first, Anxiety was almost sure it was the sun, peeking up several hours too early on the horizon. But as the light burned brighter, it remained far too small to be the sunrise.

In less than a minute, the light drew near and as it did its form began to resolve itself into something known, but unfamiliar in the flesh. A bright yellow carriage, pulled by four gleaming white horses drew, was gliding across the ocean surface. The light came from several large golden balls of light hung on each of the stallions. They illuminated the water and as the light struck, Anxiety saw the ocean’s surface freeze, locked in place as hooves and wheels pushed off.

Light magic. It was the first Anxiety had ever seen of it. He was both blinded by its brightness and compelled to curiosity about its warmth.

“Showtime,” muttered Deceit, too low for Anxiety to have been meant to hear. He raised his hand and in Deceit’s palm a mirror caught the reflection of the carriage lights and glinted. The carriage turned, and both of them leaned forward as the lights struck the milky haze of the barrier.

Like sunshine through a gray morning, the carriage seemed momentarily blurred before the lights pierced through. It seemed only a moment before the carriage was through the barrier and pulling up alongside the dock to meet them.

As the golden lights fell on the dock, Anxiety felt their full force against his shadows like a blistering burn. He started to a take a half a step back, squinting and half blinded, when Deceit caught his arm and dug his nails in.

“Smile, prince,” he hissed lowly. “It’s a brand new world.”

Anxiety was barely able to see as the door of the carriage suddenly burst open. He squinted against the too-bright lights to make out a tall and skinny silhouette in the frame.

Deceit was practically shaking in anticipation. “Welcome,” he said, bowing his head in way that made Anxiety do a double-take. “I hope you ran into no trouble on your travel to the Island.”

“How I fared here is inconsequential,” said the man said in a clipped voice, stepping down from the carriage. He was tall and skinny and younger than Anxiety expected. Unable to look up, Anxiety stared at where the stranger’s long blue robes swept against his heels. “You are the one the crown has been contact with then?”

“Yes. You may call me Deceit.”

“Truly?” The Light’s voice rose. “How interesting. I am Logan, advisor to the throne. I am here today to act with the full the agency of the crown prince in this matter. To begin, I will need verification of your identity.”

Logan. Anxiety’s nose winked. What an odd name. That didn’t tell him anything useful about the man in front of them.

Deceit seemed unbothered. “Of course,” he smiled. From inside of his cape he pulled out a very familiar letter, which was stacked with several others of the same make. He passed them over and Anxiety squinted to watch as Logan flipped through them, unfolding and scrutinizing the letters far to quickly for him to follow.

“Yes, these seem to be in order,” said Logan. He passed back the letters, and for the first time Anxiety felt his gaze land on him. “This is the one?”

Deceit nodded, his smile growing. “Yes,” he said with a flourish of his arm. “May I present Remus Sanders, the long lost prince of the Light.”

Anxiety’s mind was a mess of jitters. Here it was. He was actually going through with this.

He forced himself to look up. The lights burned a spike straight into the back of his head. He found Logan’s eyes were dark blue and inspecting him without emotion.

It was a scarily similar experience to Deceit’s scrutinization.

“Well, there is some resemblance, at least,” said Logan.

“As I have written, when I saw the grown image of the prince the likeness was uncanny,” said Deceit. “I’ve known Remus since we were both very young. We grew up together, you might say, almost like brothers.”

Anxiety wanted to gag. Even _if_ that were true about the Duke, he doubted either of them had the capacity to care for anyone like family, let alone each other. Not that Anxiety could talk, but still.

“Yes, you wrote so in your missives,” said Logan. “I _am_ curious as to how to acquired a picture of the crown prince. I was not aware that such things were delivered on the trade ships.”

“Oh, just scraps and things. I like to keep up on current events, so I often look for the papers and clippings others might throw away. Knowledge is not always the first priority for others, so I get lucky from time to time with what I find.”

“Hm. Well, I commend you on your pursuit,” said Logan. Then his eyes slid to Anxiety. His stare was enough to make his skin itch. “You are being very quiet. Are you ill?”

Anxiety could practically _feel_ Deceit’s glare. “Sorry,” he began, stumbling, “I just—it’s those lights. Could you maybe turn those things down?”

Logan frowned. “The lights have only one setting. They are fulfilling their function adequately.”

“They’re giving me a headache,” said Anxiety. Beside him, Deceit shifted, snagging Anxiety’s arm and _squeezing_.

“Remus can be a little sensitive to magic,” he said smoothly. “I’ve tried to shield him the best I could, but there’s only so much one can do.”

Logan shook his head. “No, I apologize. Perhaps this is our cue to depart.”

“So soon?” asked Deceit. “You’re more than welcome to stay a moment.”

“No. We must go. The crown prince is waiting.” Logan looked at Anxiety, then gestured to the carriage. “If you would. The lights will be dimmed inside.”

Anxiety fiddled with his sleeves, suddenly terrified of all that was about to happen. He caught Deceit’s yellow eye and read the warning there—and then his eyes roamed for a mere second over the dismal skyline of the Island still asleep.

He wouldn’t miss it. The city, the people, the Island itself—none of it had been kind. But the Island was all he knew and that in itself was safety.

He didn’t have a choice.

He could feel the other two staring as he put his foot on the step of the carriage. After a moment spent hesitating, he threw himself in all at once. The effect was like ripping a bandage. Almost immediately the throbbing in his eyes lessened as the walls of the carriage blocked the light, yet his heart rate increased as he realized the enormity of what he had just done.

He was leaving the Island. _No one_ left the Island. Not in seventeen years.

Outside, Deceit and Logan exchanged words that Anxiety could not hear, too focused on pulling in air and expelling it. The carriage was fine on the inside, smooth wood painted creamy white and decorated with little swan details. The whole thing might have bought a house on the Island, a nice one too.

And then Logan was inside the carriage too and the door was closed and Anxiety had been so focused on not freaking out he hadn’t even gotten one final look at Deceit or heard his last words. Logan didn’t say anything to Anxiety. He sat down on the bench opposite him and immediately pulled out a journal and pen, even as the carriage gave a jerk and began to move, apparently without signal.

Anxiety had been so blinded outside, he had not even noticed a driver. He couldn’t help but scramble for the window as the carriage began to move. Already outside they were pulling away from the dock. Anxiety could just make out Deceit’s black and yellow figure before the window turned away, and then they were moving at real speed.

Anxiety couldn’t help but watch in person as the lights seemed to freeze the ocean waves in time. The tires pulled sprays of water up that never landed, hanging like unseasonal icicles in their wake.

Behind them, the Island dropped away far too quickly. Everything Anxiety had ever known shrinking all too suddenly into a muddied picture obscured by the fog.

“I advise sitting back now.”

Logan’s voice startled Anxiety. “What?” he asked.

Logan turned a page in his journal and looked up. “We’re going to hit the barrier soon. It’s best to be prepared.”

The barrier. Anxiety was suddenly assailed by the image of his body hitting the invisible shield while the carriage travelled on, crushing him. Or perhaps it would just immediately wash away whatever illusion the Duke’s amulet granted. Who was to say it would not simply kill Anxiety? The barrier was designed with the entire purpose to _stop_ Dark magic users and Anxiety was anything but Light.

“I would not worry,” said Logan. “So long as you remain in the lights you are entirely safe.”

Anxiety hunched into his seat. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried this before,” he muttered.

Logan put down his pen and looked up. “No. But seeing as I designed the lights, I do consider myself the foremost expert on their capabilities.”

Anxiety’s mouth dipped with realization. So Logan was not just a stuffed robe like he appeared. That was some _serious_ magic stemming from the lights. Powerful magic.

He bit his tongue and stared at his hands in his lap. The window lost all its attraction. Anxiety only realized they had reached the barrier when the carriage gave a slight jerk. It was so subtle he might have even missed it, if that was not when Logan picked up his pen again and said, “Now then. We are clear of the barrier’s influence. It is time for you and I to have a talk.”

Anxiety was expecting this. Deceit had warned him that he would have to prove his identity as the Duke. He just didn’t expect was it to be so soon.

He stared back, feeling his heart begin thundering in his chest.

“Already? I mean, just with you? Shouldn’t the prince—or, I don’t know, _someone_ royal—be here for this?”

“Certainly,” said Logan. “And there will be.”

With that, he reached up and knocked on the wall behind him three times. A moment later, the door to the carriage flew open, spraying the inside with frozen drops of water and blinding Anxiety with the sudden return of that awful golden light.

A man flew in from the outside. It must have been the driver, Anxiety realized. Only, as the carriage door swung shut and trapped them all inside, Anxiety saw a very familiar face staring down at him.

It was the Duke. Only, it wasn’t the Duke.

No, Anxiety realized with a shudder, it had to be his twin—the Prince. And he was smiling down at Anxiety like he was either a beast or a bounty.

“Hello, brother. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bother me on tumblr @pyrchance.


	3. Just Around the Riverbed

The laughter that filled the small carriage was as sharp and utilitarian as a whip. The Prince’s face was the Duke’s face, tanned and strong-jawed with a swoop of light-brown hair swept up from his eyes. His laugh was his own. He threw back his head and let his teeth flash, while the long exposed line of his throat made a mockery of Anxiety’s terror.

“Quit that,” said the Logan, setting down his pen primly. “You’re making him nervous.”

“I am only celebrating what you’ve brought us,” the Prince said. “You should be happy I’m happy.”

“I’d be happier if you sat down.”

There was a sword on the Prince’s hip. It stuck out as the Prince slid down beside Logan. Not a dagger of a club, but an actual sword, like something out of a story book. Designed to kill monsters.

Underneath the carriage seats, weak shadows curled as Anxiety rocked back into his corner. Praying that neither the Prince nor his advisor looked down, he stomped down the urge to pull on them. To hide.

He ducked his head, sucking in the too warm air and pretending he could not see the rushing of the mainland drawing closer out the window. The carriage fell silent. Anxiety realized, a long moment too late, that someone was speaking to him.

He forced his head up. Both the Prince and his advisor were staring expectantly.

“What?” he said, defensive.

If either of the two were annoyed at his inattention, their schooled expressions didn’t show it. Logan waved a slight hand at the Prince, before announcing formally, “Let me introduce His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Roman Sanders, Heir to the Throne of Light.”

“Uh.” Did he bow? How humiliating. The thought of actually doing so burned in his face.Somehow he couldn’t force his body to do it. His spine remain locked and hunched in the corner, unwilling to take his eyes off of the two men opposite him. He fumbled for his words. “It’s—uh. It’s nice to meet you?”

Logan blinked slowly, brows pulled together like Anxiety was a poorly performing dog. The Prince gave another sharp slap of laughter. It rang out hollowly in the carriage.

Shame stung Anxiety’s cheeks. Unable to help the shadows from curling around his ankles, he shrunk back even more.

“You Islanders certainly are hilarious,” said the Prince, grinning even as his laughter died down. It wasn’t a friendly expression. “Of course, _you_ may just call me Roman. We are meant to be brothers, after all.”

Logan’s expression soured, and Anxiety relaxed minutely when his attention turned on the Prince. “That is completely against protocol, Your Highness.”

Prince Roman rolled his eyes. “This entire trip is against protocol, Logan. Or did your curiosity make you forget that crossing the barrier is forbidden. Why, your little letter writing project is forbidden. You’re lucky I like you enough to keep you out of the dungeons.”

“Yes,” Logan said flatly. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The Prince dismissed Logan’s impassive face, turning back to Anxiety. His smile was wide and full of dangers. “So, tell me. How _is_ life on the Island? You don’t _seem_ to be a terrible, malformed beast.”

Anxiety choked. “A what? Why would you think that?”

The Prince shrugged, throwing a thumb at his advisor. “That’s what he said. Logan, have you been leading me on?”

Logan shot him a scouring look and cleared his throat. “Long term magic use often produces a byproduct on the caster that reflects its intention through a physical marking. Pre-barrier accounts state that these effects are more prevalent among Dark magic users. Therefore, I had prepared the Prince to be aware that you would likely have an altered appearance. However, I was perhaps preemptive in the severity of that warning.” He paused, gesturing at Anxiety’s eyes, at the unnaturally dark circles underneath. “Are those dark circles the only markings you have?”

“Uh, yeah.” Anxiety’s fingers came unbidden to rub at the circles under his eyes. It was weird for someone to bring attention to them. “It’s just these.”

“What’s with the green?” said the Prince.

Anxiety blinked at him. “Green?”

The Prince made a face, before wiggling his fingers at Anxiety’s head. It took the Islander a minute before he remembered he was wearing the Duke’s colors.

“It’s just hair,” Anxiety said.

“I don’t like it,” said the Prince. “You’re making my face look like an unripened fruit. Why on earth did you choose _that_ color? You could have gone with red, at least. Something a little less like garbage.”

Okay, so the Prince _definitely_ didn’t like him. Then again, he hadn’t run Anxiety through with his sword yet either.

Anxiety pulled at his hair. Deceit’s illusion hadn’t changed its length, just washed away the purple, so it still hung down into his eyes. Toying with a few strands he tried to imagine what the Prince saw wrong with this of all things. As much as Anxiety hated the guy, the Duke’s hair vibrant green hair really was much better than some of the more faded hues common on the Island.

“It just grows this way,” he said, releasing his hair to run his hand through it. “I don’t know. Why is your hair brown?”

“Interesting.” Logan’s pen scratched on his paper. Anxiety stiffened. He had forgotten, for a moment, that this was an interrogation and that someone powerful enough to break through the barrier was sitting taking notes. Logan continued on, “All of this is significantly less disturbing than the accounts from the war, though perhaps that is to be expected. I did notice your friend—Deceit, was it?—had scales. Do all Dark markings manifest on the face?”

“Not really,” said Anxiety. He thought ofthe Duke’s extra limbs and shuddered. “I dunno. It’s not _uncommon,_ I guess. Deceit’s got the whole snake thing but even that…it’s not, I mean, it’s not guaranteed that the magic—or marks, or whatever— _mean_ something.”

“On the contrary,” said Logan, looking up from his writing, “there’s an entire school of philosophy that would prove you wrong.”

“Well, I’m disappointed,” cut in the Prince. “Here you were promising something grand and new, Logan, and instead you give me a boy with dark circles and a bad dye job. If I wanted to look at someone sleep deprived I could just look at you. No offense or anything.”

Boy? Anxiety sat up. He hadn’t been called _boy_ since the orphanage.

“I’m not a _boy_ ,” he said, loudly. He froze when both men looked his way. He backtracked quickly, “I mean—the Prince and I, we’re the same age, aren’t we? We’re, uh, twins.”

The Prince and Logan exchanged a glance. Anxiety strangled his hands in his lap.

“Technically,” said Logan. “Having been born first, Roman is the Crown Prince. Twins or not, he is the one inheriting the throne.”

“Oh. Right. Of course,” said Anxiety. Shit. That had sounded too much like he was aiming for throne, hadn’t it? Like he was a threat. He readied himself for the backlash, preparing to grovel or dodge out of the way, depending on how the Prince reacted.

Surprisingly, it was Logan, not the Prince, who did.

“That is not to say that being the second prince is inconsequential,” Logan said, leaning forward. “Having a spare is not only wise, but necessary in many cases. After all, we would hardly not be here if not for—”

“Later.” The Prince cut in, quelling Logan with a look and a dismissive hand. “We can get into the politics of it later, Logan.”

Logan’s browed furrowed, “It’s rather important, Your Highness. In under a month you be—”

“We can talk about it _later_ ,” the Prince repeated, tone firm. Then, like blowing out a light, the ice in his voice melted. Folding his fingers on his knees, he angled his body towards Anxiety. “We haven’t even gotten to know one another yet. So, brother, tell us about yourself. Logan tells me your friend’s letters left a lot to the imagination.”

“You didn’t read them?” Anxiety asked. That would be good. Anxiety himself had little idea beyond the basics what lies Deceit might have penned down.

“Nope.” The Prince waved a hand cavalierly. He was much more casual than Anxiety was expecting for royalty. “I’m the sort that would rather be in a book than reading one. That’s what I have this one for.” He jostled Logan, who shot him a poisonous look. “So, I have told you a little about the sort of man I am. What sort of a man are you?”

“Oh.” Here began the interrogation again. Anxiety dropped his eyes and took a quiet breath. “I don’t know. That’s a big question.”

“Not really,” said the Prince. “I can think of several answers for myself quite easily. I’m a fighter. I enjoy a good night at the theatre. I am an especially skilled orator, or so I’m told. You see? You could at least try.”

Anxiety hunched down. “Sure, you can. That’s easy for _you_ to say. You’re a prince.I’m not really anyone important.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said sharply. Anxiety startled, knocking his elbow into the wall. He ignored the Prince’s ill concealed snicker.

“I’m telling the truth,” Anxiety said. Then he remembered he was meant to be lying. “I mean, okay, so Deceit says I’m _his_ brother. The long lost prince, or whatever. But its not like _I_ knew that. It’s not like anyone else on the Island knows that.”

It was the first time Anxiety had mentioned the whole lie that had brought him to his moment. Deceit had spent the last night drilling a cover story into his head—one threaded with memory gaps and pieces of Anxiety’s own past to keep it viable. He watched Logan’s face carefully to see how the lies would strike.

The words seemed to do nothing. Logan merely straightened his glasses, pushing them higher up his nose. He said, “Regardless of who you once were, you are now the only person from the Island to leave it since the war. That makes you unique and that is a very important position to be in indeed.”

“I guess.” Anxiety looked down. The hands were tan and unfamiliar in his lap.

He missed his body. He missed his shadows. Being so seen was exhausting.

Anxiety shrugged. He still wasn’t _wrong_ , no matter what Logan had just said. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I wasn’t a _prince_. I wasn’t really anybody.”

Logan nodded. “Yes, that’s what is intriguing to me,” he said. “It is well known that Remus Sanders was lost on the Island while the barrier was erected. You were five at the time. Very few people have entertained the idea of your survival with such a target on your back—especially at such a young age. Yet we also never heard word of your demise. It intrigues me. How did you remain hidden?”

Anxiety already had Deceit’s clever lie on his tongue, dipping his own true history with a silver plating of the Duke. This, at least, was a question he had prepared for. “I don’t really remember,” he said. He spoke slowly, hoping his expression was one of someone trying to remember and failing. The story he told next was true—at least mostly. “I grew up in an orphanage. A lot of us did. There were a lot of parents that didn’t come back from the last battle, I guess, so a lot of kids didn’t really have a place to go. That’s were I met Deceit the first time. It was pretty crowded. I don’t think anyone noticed when I eventually left.”

Remembering the orphanage was like flexing a muscle he hadn’t used in years. Anxiety’s own memories of his youth were sharp and barren, full of dark rooms and cold beds and a stomach that was never full. All of what he said was true, minus Deceit. Anxiety had already been living on the streets for months before he ever ran into the snake-faced boy. Though, he supposed, it was true they were children when they had met. It was hard, sometimes, to remember he had ever been a child at all.

Humming, Logan adjusted his glasses and leaned forward. “Regardless of how many children were there, surely the name Remus Sanders must have attracted attention on its own.”

Anxiety snorted. He couldn’t help it. That was just so, so wrong. “We don’t have names like that on the Island,” he said. “Remus,” he rolled the name on his tongue, wrinkling his nose. “Nobody would use that.”

Logan appeared perplexed. “What do you mean?”

Anxiety shrugged. “I just don’t get why someone would choose the name Remus. It’s stupid. What does that even mean?”

“Excuse me,” the Prince shot in, sitting up like an abused cat. “My _father_ chose that name.”

“He did? Why?” Maybe it was a royalty thing, Anxiety assumed. He guessed it made sense for important people to need names early, maybe even before they could talk.

“It was my grandfather’s name,” said the Prince.

“So?”

“So that name carries on an important legacy, obviously. I won’t have you slandering it.”

Anxiety recognized the edge in the Prince’s voice as anger. He hunched down. “I wasn’t,” he said.

“Excuse me,” said Logan, interrupting. “I’d like to return to something you said earlier. You said no one would ‘choose’ the name Remus. Am I to understand then that it is common practice for people on the Island to name themselves?”

“Well, yeah,” said Anxiety.

“Fascinating.” Logan’s eyes gleamed. Anxiety realized, by virtue of their too-close proximity, that they were actually a very dark blue. Being under his gaze was like having the entire night sky stare back at you. “So what name did _you_ choose?”

“Oh.” Anxiety hesitated, glancing at Logan’s poised pen above his paper. Deceit would kill him, but he couldn’t—he just couldn’t stand the thought of being called _the Duke_. Besides, it wasn’t like these Light Siders would _know_.

He took a breath, holding it in until his lungs burned and he had no choice but to release it and say, “Anxiety. I’m called Anxiety.”

“What!” the Prince screamed.

Anxiety jumped, watching in horror as the Prince’s face crumpled. His hands quickly came up to cover his face. His shoulders shook. Anxiety stared. Was the Prince _crying_?

No. More of that horrible, obnoxious laughter filled the carriage, slipping out of the gaps between the Prince’s fingers.

“Roman,” Logan said, disapprovingly.

The Prince’s laughter eased off. He wiped his face, which was red with amusement. “ _Anxiety_. That can’t be what people seriously called you.”

Anxiety shrunk back. “Well, they did.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s better than _Remus_ , _”_ he said. Or _Roman_ or _Logan_ come to think of it. Those names meant nothing. At least his name made sense.

Logan was practically lit up in excitement. Anxiety was beginning to see that the man’s true motivation was knowledge—not just for the sake of protecting the Light, as Anxiety had first thought, but simply to _know_.

“I believe there may be far more differences in our two cultures than I previously suspected,” Logan said, not sounding disturbed by the prospect at all, but rather invigorated. “Who would have suspected that such a large contrast would develop in so little time? Though I suppose a division in customs may likely have contributed to the civil war itself. I can’t imagine why any of the scholarship fails to mention something so basic.”

He sat up abruptly, spearing Anxiety with a look. “You and I will have to talk more,” he demanded.

“Sure?” said Anxiety. Logan words didn’t make complete sense. “What’s wrong with now?”

Logan cocked his head. “Oh, didn’t you realize?”

“What?” said Anxiety.

The Prince grinned, throwing his hand at the window. “We’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget you can come bother me @pyrchance on tumblr.


	4. Be Our Guest

Anxiety didn’t know much about the geography of the mainland, but he’d always assumed that the Castle of Light was far, far inland. As far from the Island as could be.

He was not prepared for the gleaming stone palace to rise, white and gold and wholly formidable, on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The carriage entered through a natural bay, dotted with ships all flying the royal red. The horses pulled the carriage straight from the surf up a steep path that carved into the cliff.

Looking back from on high, Anxiety realized that he could faintly see the smudge of the Island’s barrier in the distance. Had the fog on the Island ever lifted, the castle would have been clearly visible from the shore.

He pulled back from the window. He was expecting…he didn’t know what he was expecting. There were no crowds on the streets. It was the dead of night yet. The horses’ hooves echoed on the stone.

They stopped at the main entrance. Anxiety had just a moment to take in a garden sprawling with fountains and vibrant flowers before he was ushered without fanfare inside. They moved too quickly for him to truly take in the opulence of the vast rooms and glittering floors of the castle, only leaving him with a crushing impression of excess. Logan walked briskly in front leading, with the Prince caging Anxiety in from the rear.

After a brief, dizzying walk in which they met no one, their trek at ended abruptly at a door far from the center of the castle. The room Anxiety was led into was small, but no less ornate. It was a sitting room of some kind, seats arranged around a low table, a desk pushed to one side with several tall windows looking out onto the grounds. Beneath a golden mantel , a fireplace gently smoldered. Anxiety tried not to look around too obviously, hiding his hands inside his cloak to keep from touching anything.

“Get Patton,” said the Prince, strolling forward and dropping his scarlet traveling cloak on the back of a chair. Logan dipped his head and disappeared out the door.

Anxiety stood in the threshold and fidgeted. On the Island he was poor, true, but everyone was poor. Here, he could feel the frayed seems of his clothing and the dirt on his shoes tracking onto the floors. He had never imagined there could be much gold in his life. It shone on the doorknobs and plated on the corners of the wooden furniture and the delicate moldings of the high ceilings. The walls of the room were painted a pale cream, but splashed with tapestries. They played out the history of the royal family in reds and yellows. Anxiety’s eyes caught on one tapestry, hanging in prominence above the fireplace. It showed a white warrior stabbing through a bloodied winged beast at his feet. From the beast’s hands shot black sparks of magic.

Anxiety had to draw his eyes away. Had to focus on something else, something that was not the destruction of his kinsmen made immortal.

He faced the Prince, who was reclining on a chair with his head tossed back.

“Who is Patton?” he asked, digging at the question that had been niggling in him all evening. “Is that the King?”

The Prince huffed, cracking one eye open. “Of course you would ask that. The answer is no. Definitely not. Patton is…well, Patton. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

Anxiety eyed the Prince, noticing for the first time the tightness around his mouth. Although he was resting on the chair, his feet were poised to move. He was nervous. Anxiety dreaded to know why.

“Where are we?” Anxiety asked, looking once more to the tapestry. “What room is this?’

“You’re home!”

Anxiety and the Prince lurched, Anxiety in a startled spin and the Prince to his feet. The interruption came as a man burst through the door, Logan on his heals.

After first glance, the newcomer didn’t _seem_ like a threat. Blonde and round-faced, with a short gray cape around his shoulders, Anxiety’s head nonetheless was rushing from adrenaline too hard to dismiss his misgivings. He wrapped his arms tight across his chest and released his grip on the shadows in the room, trying not to show his uncertainty. There were so few of them.

Beaming, the stranger crossed the room, charging straight at Anxiety. Anxiety had no time to react before two arms were flung around his neck. A solid body collided with his and then he was being squeezed and Anxiety _froze_. He could feel the writhing of the shadows beneath his cloak, feel the warmth and strength of this stranger around his neck, feel the _dread, dread, dread_ building in his chest.

And then it was over.

“Oh, you cannot believe how excited I am to see you!” the stranger said, pulling back. His head swung to the Prince, a laugh bubbling out of his lips. “And Roman! I missed you!”

The man barreled over to the Prince, leaving Anxiety breathless and dizzy, reeling in the lingering terror and warmth of whatever _that_ was. It made his chest hurt. He reached up a hand to rub his rib cage, feeling the ache there.

“Ah hem.” The sound of a throat clearing drew attention to the door where Logan stood. He looked sour about something, though Anxiety was beginning to realize that might just be his face. Logan said impatiently, “It has been a very long night. If we could get this over with please.”

The stranger retreated back from the Prince with a sheepish grin, throwing an easy arm around Logan’s shoulders before the other shifted him off. Anxiety had never _seen_ someone’s face be that—that—he wasn’t even sure what to call it. The constant smiling made him itchy.

“Oh, sure kiddo,” the stranger said, _still_ smiling. Anxiety backed away when the stranger turned that look back on him. His back hitting a chair, which scooting over the floor embarrassingly loud.

Logan had one hand pinched on the bridge of his nose. “Anxiety, please meet Lord Patton. Lord Patton—Anxiety.”

“Isn’t that just the neatest name,” said Patton. He was still in movement, shifting his weight from one side to the other, like a dog in sight of a bone. He didn’t laugh at Anxiety’s name, but there was a gleam in his eyes Anxiety didn’t like either. Patton went chattering on, “Logan here was just filling me in on what you boys talked about on your trip. You just about made his day and the sun’s not even close to being up yet. I guess you could say he’s taken a real _shine_ to you, son.”

The Prince groaned. Logan’s hand covered his face.

Anxiety’s head spun.

Son? _Son?_

No one had ever called him that. Not once. This was his—or no, this was the Duke’s father?

But the Prince had said Patton wasn’t the King. Was he lying?

“Who _are_ you?” asked Anxiety.

Logan cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, more thorough introductions are perhaps in order. Lord Patton is acting as Steward of the throne while the King is…unavailable. He is considered one of the great heroes of the war and beloved by the people and crown.”

“Unavailable?” Anxiety straightened up. “What’s wrong with the King?”

Logan shook his head. “We’ll explain more later. For now, it is enough to know that Lord Patton is the person responsible for bringing you here.”

Anxiety shot another look at the Prince. “I thought that was you,” he said.

“Me?” The Prince’s lips curled, a cross between a sneer and a smile. He was standing now, arms crossed over his chest and lips pursed. “Please, I had _very_ little say in the matter. Logan is the one who wrote all the letters.”

“At the request of Lord Patton,” demurred Logan. “After, of course, your friend Deceit reached out to us. Ultimately, it was Patton’s decision to return the letter that resulted in you standing here today.”

Anxiety stared at Patton, recognizing immediately that he had underestimated the man. Stupid, Anxiety scolded himself. He knew better than to dismiss based on appearances. So what if the man was smiling. Deceit smiled all the time. That didn’t make him _kind_.

“You did this?” Anxiety asked. “Why?”

“Of course I did.” Patton cocked his head. “How could I not?”

His wide eyes didn’t fool anyone, least of all a creature of paranoia. “Communication between the Island and the mainland is forbidden,” said Anxiety. He jerked his head at Logan. “He even said it was forbidden for you guys. You never sent any letters or declarations before. I would have known. Why break the rules? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

Patton showed no annoyance at the barrage of questions. If anything, he swelled, smiling stretching across his face, scrunching his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Okay, sunshine, you’ve got me.” He laughed, and either didn’t notice or ignored Anxiety’s flinch. “I can just tell you’re a thinker, like our Logan. I admit it. There is something pretty darn big coming up. You’re friend’s letter couldn’t have come at a better time. Of course, I don’t have to tell _you_ what day it’s going to be soon.”

Anxiety was losing his patience. “Uh, yeah, you kind of do.”

Patton gasped. “It’s your birthday, silly!”

“My…birthday?” Anxiety couldn’t help it. He sneered. There was something seriously wrong with these people. This one _had_ to be older than Anxiety yet he spoke like a _child_. “You decided to bring me here…for my birthday?”

“Well, not just _your_ birthday,” Patton amended. “Roman’s too! After all, you and Roman are twins. It would be a pretty big bummer if you missed your own twin’s coronation.”

“Coronation?” yelped Anxiety. Deceit hadn’t mentioned anything about a new king. He turned on Logan. “I thought you said the King was fine.”

Logan sniffed. “Actually, I said nothing of the sort. I said the king is unavailable, which is accurate. In two weeks, Prince Roman will turn twenty-five, however, which is the legal age for succession and therefore he will be crowned to rule while his father is…away.”

“And you didn’t think to _mention this?”_ demanded Anxiety.

Logan shot him a sharp look. “I said I would explain later, which I have. Contrary to popular believe, I do have more pressing things to do than to explain rudimentary common knowledge to a grown adult.”

Anxiety drew back, stung. He hated being called stupid. It wasn’t _his_ fault he’d had more pressing matters to deal with than school. He snapped back. “Well, excuse me. It’s not like I’ve spent my entire life on an isolated _Island_.”

“Please,” scoffed Logan. “Sarcasm is such a low language. I won’t engage with it.” He turned to the others, nodding his head like Anxiety was no longer in the room. “If you’ll excuse me, my schedule has been thrown off too much as it is. Good night.”

He left before either could say a word. The Prince was smirking, his brows high on his face like he’d just witnessed something funny. Meanwhile, Patton’s smile had slipped slightly. It readjusted itself to full volume as he turned back to Anxiety.

“You’ll have to excuse our Logan’s harshness,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure all this traveling has tired you all out. He was really quite excited to meet you. We all are.”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered the Prince.

“Roman!” chided Patton, turning.

Anxiety couldn’t watch. “Whatever,” he said. “Can we just be done now?”

“Oh! Oh, of course!” exclaimed Patton. He waved his hands, looking so much more like a harried mother than the acting steward of a kingdom. “You must be just dropping, huh? I guess we’ll save the tour for later then and let you get up into bed.” He waved a hand around the room. “You’re room’s just through that door. Need anything before we go? Midnight snack? Water?”

“No.” He just wanted to be _alone_.

“Alrighty,” smiled Patton. He stepped forward, arms rising, and Anxiety quickly scuttled back several feet, uncaring it if made him look like a coward. Patton’s arms dropped, the hesitation soon covered up not-so-smoothly with a smile. “Well, okay, then. That’s it I suppose. Just holler if you change your mind.”

He gave a little wave as he stepped out the door. Anxiety couldn’t bring himself to return in, feeling draining to his bones.

The Prince collected his cloak from the chair and moved to follow his companions. He stopped just short of the door, turning back to fix Anxiety with a look that chilled.

“I’d be careful about leaving this room,” the Prince warned in a flat voice. “You don’t want to go missing _twice_.”

* * *

That night, Anxiety lay covered in darkness, awake but uncertain what had woke him. He squinted his eyes through around the unfamiliar bedroom. There was no one here, and yet.

He sat up. The Duke’s amulet thumped heavily on his chest and he realized with a lurch that it was hot.

He quickly fished the necklace out from beneath his shirt. As he did he noticed a faint glow emitting from it. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the heat. The amulet itself was a gaudy show of cheap gold twisted crudely together, but it held a surprisingly attractive pane of green sea glass within.

There was a flash across the surface of the glass. A movement.

Anxiety almost yanked the amulet off, stalled only when Deceit’s warning rang in his ears. He had no guarantee the illusion would work again if he took it off now.

But the chain of the amulet was too short for him to look at properly around his neck. He looked around the room, noticing a round mirror just above a dresser. Scrambling out of bed, he ignored the face of the Duke staring at him from the reflection and held up the amulet to the mirror.

Another flash. Just for a second, the green of the sea glass seemed to turn yellow. A familiar yellow.

Anxiety jerked. The color disappeared.

He pulled back from the mirror. It didn’t matter now. Even with so small of a glimpse, Anxiety recognized that distinctive shade of yellow.

It was an eye. Deceit’s eye.

He was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come bother me on tumblr @pyrchance.


	5. Be Our Guest

Anxiety woke, uncomfortably warm, to the creak of a door opening. He sat up with a start, disoriented when his hands hit soft sheets instead of hard stone. It was that alone that kept him from attacking the startled serving woman who stood at the doorway, arms full of clothing which she laid out on a dresser.

He scrambled out of bed, dragging half the covers with him.

“Who the hell are you?”

The serving woman, a portly figure wearing a pristine white apron, frowned at him. “That’s no way to talk to anyone, young man, and I don’t care where you’re from.”

So she knew who he was. Anxiety bristled. “What are you doing in my room?”

“ _Your_ room? Why I never!”

“Learned how to knock? Yeah, I can tell.”

The look the woman gave him was one of entire affront. “I see no one on that Island taught you manners. Well, you’ll soon see acting like a beast won’t get you far here. Good day to you!”

She stalked out the door, slamming it on her way. As the sounds of her footsteps receded, so did Anxiety’s stress. Only when silence reigned did he let himself collapse on the bed, blinking in a daze around the room.

So it wasn’t a dream.

He shuddered.

Sitting for some time, squashing down his fluttering emotions, his attention was eventually caught by the clothing she had left behind. He pushed himself off the bed, wrinkling his nose as he picked up the first article of clothing, a long red coat the exact color of the Prince’s traveling cloak. Beneath it, was a clean white shirt and pale riding pants. Yeah no. He wasn’t wearing any of that.

Anxiety had slept in his own clothes, as was his habit. Sniffing at his shirt, he reasoned he smelled no worse or better than he usually did. Deceit had insisted on him washing his clothes before he’d left, so he wasn’t even covered in dirt.

That decided it. He left the stack of clothing where it was, gathering up his courage and pushing open the door the bedroom. He wasn’t surprised to see Logan leaning on the wall outside, waiting. 

“Good morning.” Logan seemed to be in a better mood than the night before. At least he seemed not to actively be annoyed with Anxiety’s presence. He cast a swift look up and down the Islander’s body. “Am I to take it the clothing was not to your liking?”

“I don’t need new clothes,” Anxiety said, feeling his stubbornness rise, preparing for a fight. It was all for naught when Logan just nodded, as if this was somehow expected.

“Very well. I suppose it can wait, at least for today. Now if you’ll follow me, Patton is waiting at breakfast.”

Anxiety paid better attention this time as Logan led him through the castle. The building seemed to be constructed as a series of towers circling around a central hub. They headed down, never passing the main entrance hall, sticking to narrower paths that, while decorative, seemed less ostentatious than what Anxiety remembered from last night. A peek outside a window revealed a sky quickly lightening from dusk to day.

A prickle of unease trickled down Anxiety’s back. “Where are we going?”

“To breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know that. I mean _where_?”

Logan barely glanced at him, face pointed forward and pace quick. “Would it matter if I told you?”

Anxiety’s shoulders hunched. “It’s just a question.”

“Yes, well, I hardly think the details would mean anything to you at this point. There’s little point identifying trees if your lost in a forest.”

Another slight on his ignorance. Anxiety was getting really sick of it. He shut his mouth and decided to stop asking questions, even though found himself struck by something new each time they turned a corner.

On the ground floor, Logan finally paused before a nondescript door and opened it for Anxiety inside. Anxiety did so, pulling up short when he saw the Prince inside, perched across from Patton at a long table. He was wearing the royal red and scoffed when he saw Anxiety walk in.

“Done terrorizing the staff, beasty?”

“Behave, Roman,” said Patton lightly.

Anxiety tensed. He should have known the serving staff were spies. Stupid. All he was doing was giving the Prince more reasons to sneer at him.

He braced himself as Patton looked to him. It was impossible to miss the glance at his clothing, but for whatever reason Patton didn’t mention it. It was too early to smile, but Patton was very nearly beaming, making the hair rise on the back of Anxiety’s neck. “Good morning, sunshine! Come on in. Sit down. Logan tells me we have a very busy day today.”

That was ominous. Patton and the Prince were seated across from each other, which left Anxiety in the awful position of choosing which person to sit next to. Ultimately the danger of the Prince’s sword led him to slide reluctantly into the seat beside Patton, Logan settling down across from them.

The table was piled with trays brimming with food, breads and eggs and sausages and fruit. The scents were heavenly, and Anxiety shoved his hands beneath this legs before he could make a fool of himself and reach for it before the others did.

The pit of his stomach gave an awful lurch, awakened with a vengeance at the sight of the feast. He pushed down on his hunger—hard. There were very few free meals in life. He was aware of the amulet dangling from his chest and wondered if Deceit was laughing at him.

As the others leaned forward and began serving themselves, Anxiety distracted himself with a question. “What’s today?”

“Etiquette lessons to start,” Logan said, buttering a piece of soft-looking white bread that Anxiety had to look away from. “Then dance this afternoon, and history.”

Dancing? Anxiety made a face. “Yeah, I’m not doing that,” he said.

“You will if you don’t want to make a fool of yourself at the coronation,” said Logan firmly. “And seeing as how you will be announced to the court as a representative of the crown, I’m afraid the lessons are not optional.”

“What Logan is trying to say, is that we want to feel comfortable at the party,” said Patton. “After all, you only get one chance to make a good first impression.”

Too late. Judging but the Prince’s scoff, he was having the same thought.

Anxiety looked at the Prince from the corner of his eye, watching as he loaded up his plate with more food than Anxiety had ever seen a single person eat at once. The Prince speared a bite of sausage, bringing it up to his mouth with a surprisingly delicate motion, prongs down. Jeez, but the guy even ate fancy. Anxiety looked away before he could be caught staring.

So the food wasn’t poisoned at least. Anxiety hesitantly reached forward, dragging a slice of bread back to his plate. No one stopped him.

He took a bite, hunched as he waited for the cry of protest. When it didn’t come, he quickly stuffed the rest of the slice into his mouth.

He eyed them as he chewed hurriedly. Logan had noticed him eating and was frowning, but Patton and the Prince seemed unbothered, making easy smalltalk across the table.

He glared back at Logan, but the other just straightened his shoulders pointedly and looked away.

Well fine. If they weren’t going to stop him, he wasn’t going to hold back.

He loaded his plate with little mounds of food, hunching over it and eating quickly. The eggs and meat were heavenly, though his tightened stomach rolled with the grease. He took a bread roll and discretely broke it in half, chewing on one piece while stuffing the rest of the loaf into his cloak. He wasn’t sure how many meals they served at the castle, or if he was entitled to them as a stranger, or if he would be required to pay them back for it later, but he wasn’t going to take any chances with going hungry.

His stomach forced him to stop eating far before the others. He was tempted to keep going, to not let all this food go to waste, but experience and too many nights throwing up on his knees quelled him. He was already slightly nauseous. No need to tempt fate.

Except there were those little red fruit things left on the table that he hadn’t tried. The Island didn’t get many fresh fruits and vegetables. Most of what the mainland traded were crates full of salted meats and dried breads, or the overripe dredges of their markets. Island grown produce consisted of mainly hardy fare like cabbage and potatoes and hard little apples, tilled in closely guarded soil and hawked at great price in the square.

He didn’t recognize these. Gingerly he held one up, examining it. Their flesh was surprisingly delicate, turning his fingers red where he pinched one, and covered in tiny seeds that he wasn’t sure he could eat or not. Carefully, he picked the seeds out of one and placed the fruit on his tongue.

_Sweet_.

His eyes widened. His hands reached for the bowl of others, grabbing a handful. The leafy green heads on top were slightly sour and tough, but almost welcome as a reprieve from the sweetness. Not bothering to deseed them, smearing red juice on his mouth and hands, he gorged himself on the saccharine little fruits.

The bowl emptied quickly. He licked the red remains of juice from his palms, feeling slightly sticky.

“Ah hem.”

Anxiety’s stomach gave an awkward jolt as he straightened up, reminding him that the last time he’d eaten was before Deceit had pulled him from the alleyway. He lifted his eyes, jerking back when he found Logan, Patton, and the Prince all staring at him.

The Prince’s expression was one of disgust, mirrored only slightly less in Logan’s face. Patton just looked confused, faintly worried, even as he kept smiling.

Anxiety’s blushed, ducking down, noticing for the first time the stickiness on his face also. He rubbed his mouth quickly against his sleeve, then his hands against his pants. He grimaced when his hands remained red. No wonder they were staring.

“Right,” said Logan. “Perhaps, there is no reason to wait for your etiquette lessons to begin. You do know what a napkin is, yes?”

Anxiety’s entire face burned. “Yes,” he snapped, but as he looked around the table he saw nothing of the sort.

At his side, Patton shifted, reach into Anxiety’s space and passing him the roll of fancy cloth sitting near his plate. _That_ was a napkin?Anxiety’s _clothes_ were made of less expensive materials.

“Here you go,” smiled Patton. “Now, the first thing you’re going to want to do is just lay it down on your lap.”

“Don’t talk down to me,” snapped Anxiety. He grabbed the stupidly fancy napkin and shoved it into his lap. He ignored the way Patton’s smile dimmed— _finally_ —and glared, crossing his arms across his chest to hide his stained fingertips.

Logan deftly ignored the exchange. “When you begin a meal it is important to sit up straight and to wait for your host to begin eating first. In this case, either Roman or Patton.”

Defiantly, Anxiety hunkered down into his chair and scowled even more. “I’m not hungry,” he said.

“But you hardly ate anything!” exclaimed Patton. “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong with the food? What don’t you like?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s delicious,” cut in the Prince, glaring at Anxiety as if he had said anything different. “If he doesn’t want any, then more for us.”

“ _You_ still need to fit into your coronation attire,” said Logan, eyeing him.

The Prince glared. “You need to mind your own business.”

Logan adjusted his glasses, finally turning his attention away from Anxiety to scold the Prince. “If you remember, the coronation is my business. Lord Patton specifically put me in charge of the planning.”

“Yeah, well, it’s _my_ coronation.”

“In name, yes. In actuality, I will have a far greater say in what actually occurs.”

“Not if I fire you first.”

Anxiety watched the Prince and Logan go at it, descending into bickering that seemed at once genuine in their annoyance and somehow harmless.

“Can I bring you something else?”

Anxiety flinched, not having noticed Patton. “It’s fine,” he said. “This was good.”

“If you don’t like something, I can always change it,” insisted Patton. “I want you to be comfortable here.”

“It’s fine,” Anxiety repeated, hunching down even further. Logan’s annoyance and dismissal he understood, the Prince’s hostility he expected, but the way Patton smiled he didn’t understand. It hurt some how, and made him feel paranoid, like he was stepping barefoot into a field full of snakes. Anything could be hiding behind that smile.

“I like the red fruit things,” he finally said, hoping to get the steward off his back.

Patton’s eye brows furrowed, “You mean the strawberries?”

“Yeah,” said Anxiety. _Strawberries._ What was with the mainland and all these weird names? “Those. I’d eat those again.”

Patton’s expression cleared into one of happy delight. Anxiety sat back in his chair, relieved. That was one interaction he hadn’t complete failed in, at least.

Perhaps, he could do this.

He took it back.

He couldn’t do this.

Etiquette lessons began right after breakfast. Patton and the Prince had to leave, apparently to deal with some royal business no one could be bothered to explain to Anxiety. This left Anxiety and Logan alone once again, and the other waited no time before putting Anxiety through his paces.

Apparently Anxiety had spent his whole life walking and talking and sitting and eating and even _yawning_ wrong.

Slouching was bad. Muttering was bad. Chewing his nails was _forbidden_. Anxiety couldn’t even sit down without Logan pointing out all the ways he did it _wrong_.

The first hour was a particular sort of hell. He kept flinching whenever Logan came close to correct him. He was too used to the horror stories of the beatings other kids earned at school. Anxiety had never been to school, but he’d seen enough bruised hands and wincing steps to know how those with power often used it.

Logan didn’t hit him, but that didn’t stop Anxiety from tensing whenever he drew near to correct Anxiety’s posture or chide him for using the wrong address.

“You’re _still_ slouching,” sighed Logan, as Anxiety failed once more to walk across the room in a princely enough manner. “Enough,” he snapped, slashing a hand through the air hard enough Anxiety jumped back. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re getting nowhere. It’s like you don’t want to learn.”

“No, you think?” said Anxiety, hearing his heart thundering in his ears. He crossed his arms, ignoring the way Logan scowled. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Do you think I enjoy this?” said Logan, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have any idea how many more important things I have to do?”

“Then go do them,” snarled back Anxiety. “No one’s stopping you.”

Logan sighed again. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll try this another way.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out. Anxiety, startled, quickly followed. Logan led him to yet another unfamiliar part of the castle, up to the very top of a narrow tower that they had to climb up a tight, spiral staircase to reach. This time, Anxiety knew better than to ask questions. When the door was pushed open, Anxiety couldn’t help but to gasp.

Books. There were books _everywhere_. Shelves twice the height of Anxiety’s head covered each wall, each brimming with the spines of books. Oh, there were other things too—a desk crowded with papers, a long table covered in ink stains, a ladder leading up to a loft—but Anxiety could see nothing beyond the books.

Anxiety couldn’t help it. He turned to Logan, narrowing his gaze. “Who _are_ you?”

“I believe I have already answer that question,” said Logan, stepping swiftly inside and immediately going to one of the bookshelves. Anxiety stood in the threshold, holding his breath as Logan began tugging on the spines of several tombs.

“You didn’t mention _this_ ,” said Anxiety. “Are you some lord too?”

“Hardly.” Logan seemed to be barely listening. The stack of books was growing, as he pulled more and more of them off the shelves.

Anxiety glanced nervously over his shoulder, squinting down the staircase that had brought them here. “Okay, but then are you sure you should be touching those?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Logan. “It’s a library.” He paused, slowly turning to face Anxiety. “You _have_ heard of a library before.”

Anxiety glared. “Of course I have,” he spat and this was true. He had _heard_ of libraries before—the school had one, he was pretty sure, and it wasn’t uncommon for rich Islanders to pay favors in the form of book lending. He had just never actually _seen_ one.

Logan’s eyes remained narrowed for a moment. He gathered the books he had pulled and stepped over to the table, setting them on top. “Well?” he said, after Anxiety did nothing more than lingering the doorway. “These are for you. Perhaps reading about court manners will produce better results than simply attempting to replicate them cold.”

He waited impatiently for Anxiety to creep across the threshold. As soon as Anxiety sat down he sniffed, walking away and settling in at his own desk, ignoring Anxiety for his other work.

Or perhaps he was only pretending. Anxiety wouldn’t put it past Logan for this to be another test of his etiquette. As he had before, he sat on his hands and didn’t reach out, not willing to set himself up for another round of failure.

He couldn’t help but look at the covers of the books in front of him though. They were a mix of different colors, but altogether done in bright blues and yellows and greens. Their titles were inlaid in gold or black script, some the letters so twisting they appears more like pictures.

A few of them even had illustrations on the front. Anxiety risked moving one such book closer, breathing out only when Logan didn’t look up, to study the illustration of two children on the cover. They were curiously plump and tiny, with wide smiles and round cheeks. The little boy had the little girl by the hand and was bowing, as if they were about to dance. It made Anxiety’s face heat up, as he realized the book was intended for children. It was proof enough of exactly how little Logan valued his intelligence. Still, the cover was nice to look at.

It went on like that for several hours. Logan remained hunched over his desk, occasionally muttering to himself but otherwise not moving. Anxiety eventually worked up the courage to pick up some of the books, turning their pages carefully and peeking inside.

It was a jolt when a knock finally came on the door. Logan spoke for the first time in hours, cursing and nearly spilling an ink well over some papers.

“Every time,” he muttered lowly. “It’s always _right_ when I’m in the middle of something. Anxiety, can you —?”

He flapped a hand at the door irritably, sopping up the spilled ink with the hem of his robes. It wasn’t very regal if you asked Anxiety, not that any one did. He slid off of his chair and open the door, grimacing when Patton flounced through the door, half dragging a scowling Roman behind.

“How did I know you were going to end up in here?” remarked Patton joyfully, practically skipping over to Logan to perch on his desk and ignore his annoyed look. “You’re going to turn as pale as a ghost if you stay cooped up in this room so much.”

“He’ll have competition,” added Roman with a glance up and down Anxiety, lingering on his dark circles. The Islander scowled back.

“Can we get to the point of his visit, please?” Logan said, pinching his nose.

“I’m stealing our new friend,” said Patton gleefully. “Roman’s going to help me teach him how to dance.”

“Against my will,” added Roman. “I could be doing fifty other more important things right now.”

“Likewise,” said Logan. He looked at Anxiety, who felt more like a bystander than person in the room. “We’ll start again tomorrow at breakfast. Meet me in the same room. I want to see what you’ve learned.”

“Great,” said Anxiety. “Can’t wait.”

“That’s the spirit!”

With a twirl, Patton draped his arm around Anxiety’s shoulders, instantly causing the other man to freeze. The arm tightened as Patton dragged him towards out the door.

“You look like you need a little fresh air,” said Patton directly into Anxiety’s ear. “We’ll practice in the gardens.”

His arm did not leave Anxiety for the entire duration of their rapid descent down the tower. Anxiety tried not to panic, practically crawling out of his skin with the urge to shove the other away. It was no help at all that Roman tagged behind them, a dangerous wolf at their heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hit with a spot of writer's block for the last few months, so I thought the best thing to do is to post what I have in hopes of renewed inspiration. 
> 
> If you liked it or caught any mistakes, please let me know! I'm also on tumblr @pyrchance.


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